


No Hands

by iwtv



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Dominant/Submissive, Drinking, Drinking Games, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 07:55:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6043969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwtv/pseuds/iwtv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Billy challenges Flint to a drinking game. They end up in a cell/cage, and things take an interesting turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [musemm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/musemm/gifts).



> So this idea came about from one of my tumblr tags and we agreed it would make a for a great writing prompt. Here's the result.

They’d been in Nassau for almost three weeks before Flint had an opportunity to speak with Billy socially. Both of them and some of the other crew were at the inn, drinking and having a night for themselves before they were to begin preparing for another voyage that would take them to several different towns along the Caribbean islands in service of Flint’s decree that no pirate’s death at the hands of the British would go unanswered.

Now, as he sat back in his chair and watched the other men jovially surround Billy at the bar across from him, he realized just how much Billy put his troubled mind at ease. Other than meal times in the galley he rarely got a chance to speak to the bosun. Yet seeing him now, smiling with flushed cheeks, his easy-going mannerisms naturally charming the other men, Flint made up his mind to join him.

As soon as he approached the bar and eyed Billy, mug of ale in hand, the men slowly but surely scattered, glancing at him with the usual wariness.

A part of him was always saddened when it happened, but another part of him was glad and allowed for a faint smile to grace his lips as he slid in next to Billy. Billy turned to him, still grinning, a glass of rum clutched in his hands. The liquor had made him mellow, but Billy always knew how to drink just enough throughout the night to keep him lively without becoming completely pissed, an indication of willpower that Flint had found rare in sailors. He admired it.

Especially now, as it made Billy look particularly gorgeous in the soft yellow light of the inn…

“Captain,” Billy said. “Still here? I thought you’d left a while ago.”

“Just needed one more drink before I go,” he lied.

Billy finished his rum with a quick swallow. He lifted the glass to Flint.

“Care for something stronger?”

Flint hesitated. He didn’t want to feel like shit in the morning, but then again he didn’t have much to do either; he’d already planned out their course. Silver had overseen most everything else. And Billy…was looking at him with raised eyebrows, trying to hide a smirk as though he knew his captain would decline the offer. Flint instead nodded at the innkeeper.

“I’ll have rum,” he said.

Billy said nothing but hid a grin. They gave a little toast and Flint threw back the drink, feeling it all the way down to his stomach.

They chatted about this and that and final preparations for tomorrow. Flint found himself wanting to stay in his bosun’s presence that night, for however long Billy would remain with him. He liked watching Billy speak, liked glancing down at the other man’s ridiculously built arm muscles bulging underneath his sleeve. At some point the alcohol must have started working on him because he found himself practically staring at said muscles and Billy said, “I know of a drinking game, if you’re of a mood.”

Flint dragged his eyes up to Billy’s face and found him smirking openly. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips and Flint’s breath caught.

“I don’t think I need a game to get drunk,” Flint replied.

“No, but it could make other things interesting,” said Billy, his voice dropping several octaves so that Flint eyed him extra hard.

“What, precisely, did you have in mind?”

“It’s a strategic game, something more of your…caliber, you could say. It requires a cage.”

Flint raised a brow. “A cage?”

Billy was looking at him hungrily now, sucking on his bottom lip. Whatever this was, Flint realized that Billy knew he had hooked him.

“In the fort,” said Billy. “Let’s go.”

And Billy was off his stool, nodding eagerly towards the door. Flint slowly got off his seat to follow him, but inwardly his gut told him exactly what type of game Billy had in mind and he’d drank just enough to let the possibilities seep in.

They left the inn and walked up the hill to the fort. As soon as the men standing guard saw Flint they opened the massive doors and let the two of them through. Flint followed Billy silently inside the ground level and then deeper down to the tunnels. The quiet crowded in on Flint as they walked through the dimly lit, snake-like corridors. The sudden intimacy of the moment further aroused his imagination. He let his eyes drift to Billy’s ass as he walked in front of him, imagining it bare.

They reached the first cell. Billy grabbed a torch off the wall and swung open the cell door. He stuck the torch in the wall again, illuminating the bare room in dancing orange light.

“And what are we doing here?” Flint heard himself ask. He meant it to be in his head.

“The game is No Hands. Heard of it?”

Flint’s throat went dry. He felt his cock harden slightly. He and Billy were staring at one another, unabashed.

“So, that’s it,” he replied slowly. “This is your strategic game. And you think you can win it?”

Jesus, had he really just challenged Billy at a sex game?

Billy swung the cell door shut, grinning at him over his shoulder.

“Want to find out?”

Flint opened his mouth to reply and found Billy’s lips pressed up against them instead. Flint’s breath stuttered and a pleasant warmth shot down to his groin. He opened his mouth and let Billy’s tongue explore. He forced his hands to stay at his sides and Billy did the same. In fact he clasped them together behind his back, feeling a surge of sexual adrenaline sweep through him. Billy broke off, licking his lips.

“I see you know the one rule,” he said. “Kissing only. No touching of any kind. The first person to break the rule looses, and the second party is allowed to do whatever they please.”

“Mmm. Let’s see how you fair, then,” replied Flint, looking at his bosun through his brow. The look visibly affected Billy, who muttered out “Jesus,” his dark eyes growing heavy with want as he moved in to assault Flint’s lips again. Flint eagerly took to him again, getting used to Billy’s particular taste and even his scent—like faint cologne hidden behind the whiff of the sea. Flint moved away from his lips and upped the game, planting teasing kisses along Billy’s jaw and chin, the rough stubble there further arousing him. He wanted to grind himself into Billy, to see if the feeling was mutual. He didn’t.

Billy let out a throaty hum when Flint’s tongue slid over his throat, lips moving to the side of his neck. Flint glanced down to Billy’s hands. His fingers flexed and clasped together in a most anxious way. Flint grinned. He found the gentle curve between Billy’s neck and shoulder and sucked at the soft skin there, hard enough to leave a mark. Another hum.

Then Billy abruptly stepped back so that their faces met again. He eyed Flint with parted lips, panting slightly. The overall look made Flint’s left hand twitch. He wanted to reach up and grab the side of Billy’s face and pull his body into his own, to slide his hands over what he knew were well-contoured, hard muscles, to reach into his pants…

His thoughts broke away as Billy moved forward and began tonguing behind his earlobe, a sensation that caused Flint to nearly loose his willpower altogether because it sent jolts of heat to the pit of his stomach and caused warm chills to spread through him. Evidently sensing his captain’s arousal Billy inched forward, hands still at his side, and nipped and sucked behind Flint’s ear.

Christ, he just wanted to grab Billy and push him against a wall, strip off his shirt and pants and…

“Getting tired yet?” Billy asked, leering at him and panting even more.

“Fuck you,” breathed out Flint. Maybe he could still maneuver the bosun without touching him. Flint went for his lips again (they did look a bit dry, after all) and did his best to push himself into Billy with just his mouth and face until the bosun started backing up. Billy could have easily broken off and stopped Flint’s maneuvering but he didn’t. A small and quiet laugh escaped him and further encouraged Flint. Lips and teeth and tongues clashed until Flint had backed Billy up against the hard stone wall of the cell.

“Fuck,” Billy muttered as Flint went for what he now knew was the sensitive spot on Billy’s throat. They continued on for several more minutes, then Billy slinked sideways away from the wall.

“Here,” he said. Flint turned, and Billy dropped to his knees in front of him and pressed his lips against the fly of Flint’s trousers.

“What are you doing?” Flint breathed out.

“Just kissing,” said Billy.

Flint moaned. God damnit. Why hadn’t he thought of this?

Billy pressed his lips hard over the fabric and hard against Flint’s erection. Billy looked up at him and for a moment the headiness of liquor and arousal faded beneath genuine surprise on Billy’s face—followed by a look of pure lust.

“Captain,” Billy murmured.

And images of Billy’s mouth wrapped around his cock filled his mind and he held back the whimper rising in his throat. Knowing full well what it meant, Flint reached down and jerked under Billy’s arm. Billy rose and Flint kissed him fiercely, fingers curling themselves around the back of his bosun’s neck. He thrust his hips forward into Billy’s, delighted to feel Billy’s own erection straining through his trousers.

“You’ve lost,” said Billy with a gleam in his eyes.

“Yes, I have,” said Flint without the slightest drop of disappointment in his tone.

He expected Billy to smirk at him again, to bite down on his lip or even to gloat. Instead he looked evenly at Flint through half-lidded eyes and Flint felt like he was being guzzled down, devoured. He decided he wanted Billy to look at him like that all the time from now on.

Billy grabbed Flint’s belt and unbuckled it and threw it off with all the patience of a petulant child.

“Sit down. Your boots,” said Billy.

Flint sat himself down, prepared to take off his own boots but Billy moved quicker and yanked them off. Flint rose again.

“Shirt,” said Billy, already undoing his trousers.

Flint’s throat went dry again. Jesus, was this really happening? He wasn’t even that drunk. Not from rum, anyway. Instead a different kind of drunkness filled him, made him look at Billy through a hot haze and kept his mind from working properly as he took off his shirt and stood nude before his bosun.

He felt far too vulnerable, too exposed and helpless and if it were anyone else demanding this of him he’d probably have shot them by now.

Then again, it never could be anyone else because only Billy had this effect on him, made the back of his knees weak and left him wanting.

“You’re a fucking god,” Billy said, stepping back to look at him. Flint watched as Billy’s eyes took in his form from the bottom up—legs, cock, stomach, and chest.

“Well do something already,” Flint huffed out.

Grinning, Billy pulled a bottle from his pocket. Flint recognized the oil. His cock twitched. But then Billy took off his baldric, which was thin and empty, and motioned for Flint.

“Put your arms against the cell door,” he said.

Flint looked down at the baldric and back up to Billy, a brow raised in question.

“Do it,” said Billy flatly.

Flint raised his arms and Billy arranged them so that his wrists were bound with the baldric over the thick iron bars, leaving Flint even more vulnerable and helpless.

Despite himself Flint was beyond greedy for Billy’s touch. Billy disappeared behind him and Flint found he could only turn his head so far. He heard the sounds of Billy stripping, then came fingers on his back, cool and coated with oil.

“I want you so slick not a grain of sand will stick to you,” Billy said in a low voice that made Flint shudder. His own want made him grumpy and impatient.

“Well get on with it already,” he barked.

He was fairly certain Billy chuckled.

It wasn’t just his backside or ass cleft Billy want slickened, it was everything. Everything.

Flint held back his moans when Billy’s palms rubbed over his shoulders and down his arms, over his ribs and chest. He even held back when Billy maneuvered in front of him and rubbed down his abdomen and thighs but he could not hold back the moan when Billy’s hands found his cock.

Flint closed his eyes and leaned heavily against the cell door and Billy funneled his cock, then grabbed his scrotum and covered it with oil as well.

“Huunnh,” was all Flint could manage.

“Look at me.”

Flint’s eyes popped open and he looked down between his suspended arms. Billy caught his gaze just as he slid his mouth over Flint’s cock. His fingertips touched his shaft to position it. Then Billy’s mouth began to move.

Flint’s eyes squeezed closed again, jaw tight. He muttered out more curses, some of them aimed at Billy and some aimed at no one or nothing in particular. The familiar heat pulled taunt deep inside him, threatening…

“Stop,” he cried out. “Stop! Not so soon.”

Billy immediately pulled away. If it was possible he looked even more gorgeous to Flint, lips now wet and red and thick and eyes staring up at him like two stars glittering in the torchlight.

Billy rose and went behind him again, which Flint found he hated. He might as well have had a blindfold on. Billy’s fingers however quickly found his slicked-up cleft and applied pressure. He easily slid in one finger, then another. Flint’s stomach flipped. Billy slowly wiggled his fingers and a moan came out of his captain. Flint’s cock was all but throbbing now.

“Damn you,” he muttered.

“Do you want me to stop?” Billy asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Flint gritted his teeth and forced the word out: “No.”

He could almost feel Billy grinning at his back.

Billy removed his fingers, planting small kisses on Flint’s back and shoulders.

“Captain...”

The somber tone of the word snapped Flint out of his lust-filled haze for a moment. He looked over his shoulder. Billy was looking down at his back but not really seeing it. His hands loosely gripped Flint’s waist.

“Tell me,” he said. “Do you want my cock, or do you actually want me?”

“Does it make a difference?”

“Yes, I think so.”

Flint hesitated, not because he needed to make up his mind but because he tried to imagine the consequences to his answer. There was no way to tell; the possibilities were too vague and he was hard and could think of precious little right now other than Billy’s touch.

“I want you,” he said, keeping his voice even. “I’ve wanted you for some time. Do not make me beg anymore.”

And just like that Billy’s cock was pressing into his hole. Flint braced himself, bending over more as Billy’s thick mass forced itself inside him, sliding in like butter after all the oil and stretching.

“Nuh, fuck,” said Flint. The heat that had dispersed somewhat came back and filled him up with a vengeance as Billy slowly pushed his entire length inside him and held it there. He heard Billy whimper and knew then they were both lost.

Then Billy fucked the hell out of him.

He started off at a steady pace but quickly let it build, his fingers trying to dig into Flint’s hips amidst all the oil. He moved his hands so that they molded into the contours of his lower stomach muscles and pulled Flint to him, impaling himself. Flint couldn’t hold back his whimpers. Billy’s cock pumped him, filled him up and worked itself back and forth inside him and it felt fucking delicious.

“Billy,” he moaned, his voice sounding tiny and raw.

“Fuck James,” Billy rasped back, slamming into him with sudden force like a crazed rabbit. Flint could hardly breathe. He clutched at the iron bars until it hurt. Then the bosun slowed to a crawl. Flint heard him swallow, his hand pressed against the small of his captain’s back as they both took a short reprieve. Then Billy rolled his hips and brushed up against Flint’s spot and Flint nearly lost it then and there. He looked down at his cock, bobbing in the air, begging for stimulation.

Billy pulled all the way out of him save for his head, then pushed all the way in again. He did it several more times, causing the heat in Flint to build into an unbearable mix of pleasure and need for release. How to tell Billy what he wanted?

“Billy, please…”

“You want more?”

“Fuck, yes! Touch me.”

Billy complied, shifting so he could take Flint’s cock. He hummed as he touched it.

“You are so fucking hard,” he muttered. Then he thrust his cock back inside and Flint felt everything turn to jelly for an instant, then Billy gave it to him again. Flint moaned, looking down between his tied-up arms to watch Billy pulling on him while feeling his cock inside him. He was so close to coming that if Billy either stopped again or changed rhythm he thought he might die.

Billy did neither but kept up his pace until Flint’s breathing became shorter and shorter. He felt the tidal wave roll over him, quicker and quicker until it broke, crashing forcefully into him and his cock spilled out into Billy’s hand.

Billy shook him, squeezing his grip over Flint’s head. Flint moaned and all but fell against the cell door. But Billy wasn’t done.

He rammed into Flint fast and hard again for another minute until Flint heard a strangled cry issue from his bosun’s lips, then he felt Billy’s seed empty into him. He moaned again.

When their breathing had calmed down Billy finally moved, sliding out of him and untying his baldric from Flint’s wrists. Flint winced as his arms were finally allowed to drop. His wrists were red and raw but the pain was insignificant to him.

“Was that…all right?”

Billy looked suddenly unsure, his dominating mannerism of earlier gone in lieu of facing his captain once again.

“Billy, would I have let you do that to me if it wasn’t?”

Billy swallowed, slow smile coming to his lips.

“So, I win then?”

“Open this fucking door. It’s freezing in here.”

The grin grew wider. They both dressed and Flint took up the torch and led them out. Billy’s voice echoed to him in the empty corridor.

“Are there to be more rounds of No Hands, then?”

Flint thought for a moment, then allowed himself the tiniest smirk, not turning to face Billy.

“I think I’ll make you wait. For a while.”

“What? How long?”

Flint heard the agitation creeping into his voice.

“Until next week. Or next month maybe. Maybe longer.”

“What? Why?”

Flint stopped abruptly and Billy nearly ran into him.

“Are you questioning your captain, Mr. Bones?”

Billy’s expression was enough to make Flint want to laugh out loud; a mixture of suspicion and agitation. No fear, however. Never from Billy.

“Fine,” huffed out Billy. “Have it your way.”

“Next time,” said Flint, “I think I will.”

***


End file.
